I'm slowly but surely clawing my way back into the land of the living with the relentless determination and singular sense of purpose that can only be found in a recently reanimated corpse on a quest for brains. It's appropriate, because I feel very much like I'd imagine the recently-deceased would feel, and just last week my friend asked me via e-mail, "hey are you dead?"
This was the worst flu I've had in years, and the worst sickness I've had since I got mono (with bonus strep throat and bronchitis) about 5 or 6 years ago, but even knowing that, it's very weird to me to feel so tired and weak and groggy, four days after I last had a fever. My doctor says it's normal to feel this way, though, and I should just accept it and rest until my body says it's okay to go outside and play.
So while I'm not quite ready to go on the cart, I'm not exactly spoiling for a fight with the Black Knight, either. I would probably be able to make a trip to Castle Anthrax, though.